


Play Your Heart Out

by lemonade_zest



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: And Viktor with a k, College AU, I guess I spell Yuuri with two u’s now, M/M, No Beta, Oneshot, Totally original idea I know, Violinist AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28770585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonade_zest/pseuds/lemonade_zest
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki, an anxious and exhausted college student, is playing playing a violin piece which violin legend Viktor Nikiforov is (apparently) listening to.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	Play Your Heart Out

**Author's Note:**

> I play violin so most of this should be accurate?

Pushing up the bridge of his glasses, Yuuri attempted to focus on the lecture his professor was giving the hall of about fifty students. Heavy eyes beckoned him to nap, though, but he valiantly resisted. A nudge at his side told him he wasn’t being as inconspicuous as he thought. 

“Stay awake, sleeping beauty,” Phichit whispered to Yuuri as the class wore on.

“It’s not like I’m not trying,” Yru rebutted, sitting up a little. He had horrible posture and slouching in his seat not only made him more tired, but was also not a good look for a violinist. “I stayed up all night practicing for my evaluation tomorrow, you know how it is.” Phichit couldn’t argue, he too was in the same course, but on viola, not violin. He also silently reminded himself that Yuuri was a major in music and had a minor in dance. His friend was constantly overworked and exhausted. 

Class was dismissed, and having not been able to take any notes, Yuuri groaned and hoped that Phichit had managed to pay attention better than him (if not, Phichit would be a hypocrite, and Yuuri would definitely call him out for this). Phichit invited his friend to lunch, but Yuuri declined.

“I have a practice room reserved, and my next class is in an hour anyways. I’ll have to get something to eat after that,” he explained.

“I could get you something and bring it to you so you can eat in class,” Phichit offered. Yuuri gave his kind friend a tired smile. “Yeah, that’d actually be great. Just get whatever. Surprise me.” Phichit accepted his mission and went giddily on his way. Yuuri knew full well that he had gotten just as much sleep as Yuuri had, but somehow managed to stay chipper. It was probably the energy drinks, he figured. Yuuri depended on coffee, a only slightly healthier alternative. 

So Yuuri found his practice room, shut the door, and let out a breath. Then, he began to set up. He tuned his violin, forcing the stubborn pegs to move until the notes no longer clashed, tightened his bow hair and rosined it up. He played through a few scales quickly to warm up and then moved onto his piece. As he played, he frequently stopped at the parts that tripped him up. Usually when the notes moved too fast for his bow and fingers to remain in sync. He’d slow it down, play the section repeatedly, increasing the speed until it was half decent. Everytime he messed up, to release his frustration he would press down on his bow very hard, enough that he played two or three strings at once, and the notes would crunch. Then, he’d start over, playing slow and increasing the speed once again. This was extremely tedious and annoying, but it was the method that had worked for Yuuri ever since middle school. So, he sucked it up, and spent most of his time in repetition. A soft knock on the door interrupted him, and he gladly placed his violin on the chair next to him, thankful for a the break. His hands were tired, his arm sore already. 

He could see a waving Phichit through the window with a container in hand. Yuuri opened the door and beckoned his friend in. 

“I got you sushi!” Phichit announced, thrusting the cheap container towards his friend.

“How much was it? I’ll pay you back,” Yuuri said, starting to dig through his backpack to retrieve his wallet. 

“Oh, don’t bother. This was my treat,” Phichit insisted with a wave of his hand. Yuuri decided not to fight him on it (for once) and graciously accepted the meal, putting it into his bag. 

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. 

“Now let me hear your piece!” Phichit insisted, plopping himself down in an extra chair. 

“I don’t know, Phichit, I’m not really-”

“You’re going to have to perform it in front of the class tomorrow, so you might as well practice in front of _somebody_. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Yuuri conceded, picking up his instrument. He rubbed the rosin dust off the wood, making a note to himself to polish it later. He began playing, this time all the way through without any stopping. Did he flub the notes? Of course, many times, in fact, but he persisted, nonetheless. He never let the tempo stall or increase too much. Soon, his eyes were closed. After practicing so much, he basically knew the music by heart, anyways. He winced everytime he hit a note off-tune or messed up a run, but he got through the whole piece. When he finished, he opened his eyes. Two sets of hands clapping could be heard.

Phichit turned to see another person in the doorway and his instinct was to immediately grab his phone to snap a picture, but for once, he stopped himself. Viktor Nikiforov was standing in the open doorway of the practice room, with a violin case in hand and a smile on his lips. Yuuri caught sight of him, too, and blinked a few times. His mouth formed the shape to start to say the word “what” but he never got the chance.

“That was lovely,” Viktor said, a thick russian accent present, but English fluent. He caught sight of Yuuri’s and Phichit’s shocked expressions. “Ah, I’m sorry for barging in, I just heard from the hall and wanted to listen,” he explained, still smiling.

“I… thank you,” was what Yuuri was able to stutter out. 

“I’m Viktor Nikiforov,” Viktor said, stepping further into the room, putting out his hand for Yuuri to shake. Phichit just observed. 

“Yes,” Yuuri responded awkwardly, shaking Viktor’s hand and hoping his hand wouldn’t get too sweaty. He hesitated, “I’m Katsuki Yuuri- Yuuri Katsuki,” he corrected. Getting used to the english naming construct had been tricky, despite his fluency in it for many years.

“Japanese?” Viktor questioned, tilting his head a little like a curious puppy.

“Yes, I’m from Hatesu.”

“Never heard of it,” Viktor remarked, not impolitely. Yuuri just nodded, unsure of what to say next. “Your performance, it was beautiful, as I mentioned,” Viktor said, trying to keep the conversation alive. He could tell this student knew who he was by the fidgeting of his hands and the flush of his cheeks.

“Thank you, Viktor, but I still have a lot of work to do,” he said humbly. He wanted to outright object, though. His performance was far from perfect, with all his fumblings.

“Oh, that is incredibly obvious,” Viktor said, still smiling, “you messed up quite a bit. But the heart and emotion was there,” he explained, taking a seat. Phichit, who had just been watching, jumped as an alarm on his phone went off. Cursing, he hastily explained that he had a class to go to, gathered his things, and bid the pair farewell. 

“Nice to meet you, Viktor!” He said on his way out, quickly snapping a photo and slamming the door shut.

“That’s my friend,” Yuuri supplemented, “he plays viola.”

“I’ve played it before, it’s beautiful in a different way. Warmer, deeper.”

“I-I tried once but switching from reading treble to alto tripped me up too much.”

“I can see the notes are your weakness,” Viktor explained matter-of-factly. Yuuri knew this was true, he didn’t need violin virtuoso Viktor Nikiforov to tell him that. Every teacher he had told him that, and he told that to himself on a daily basis. “But beauty and grace are your strength. You tell a story with your music, and you keep tempo, too. That shouldn’t just be pushed aside because you struggle with the technical aspects.” Yuuri nodded.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but why are you here? You’re a prodigy, and you’re at this university for what, exactly?” Yuuri asked, avoiding eye contact and avoiding accepting the compliment which he only half believed.

“Oh, right! Yes, I am here as a guest speaker for a class of a friend of mine,” he supplemented. “I am also going to aid a few students in one-on-one lessons. You’re perfect practice, actually.” Yuuri just nodded dumbly. Viktor hadn’t needed to go to university or even a conservatory to kick off his career. His natural talent shone through from a young age, playing before Yuuri was even born. He quickly grew to fame on the national stage in his teenage years. Yuuri, on the other hand, had begun to play at the age of ten, participating in his school’s string groups. He was first chair in his school’s orchestras, but was unable to take private lessons. They were too expensive for his family. The closest he got to a private lesson were some sessions with his orchestra teacher during lunch in highschool, but nothing beyond that. Until now.

“Get into position to start the piece, Yuuri,” Viktor instructed. Yuuri complied, wordlessly. He picked up his instrument and bow, attempting with the best posture he could muster to maintain a perfect position. Viktor stood and took the hand which was holding the neck of Yuuri’s violin. He already knew what he was going to say. “Collapsed hand,” Viktor remarked, confirming Yuuri’s suspicions. 

“I know. I learned that way since I was a kid, so it’s been difficult to correct.” Yuuri repositioned his hand once Viktor let it go. Instead of holding the neck with his palm flat against it, he put space between the neck and his palm. 

“If you maintain that position, those tricky fast notes will be easier to play.” Yuuri knew this. He tried. “Play,” Viktor ordered, standing back to observe his new student.

“Okay,” Yuuri complied, taking in a deep breath.

Viktor took a moment to glance at Yuuri’s sheet music, notes and fingerings were marked with pencil all over the paper. “And here I thought _I_ was forgetful,” Viktor mumbled to himself. He observed Yuuri’s handwriting. Some of the notes were eligible to him, written in Japanese characters. Others were phrases or words in english, such as “SHUT UP”. Yuuri began playing, nervous with Viktor’s eyes on his every movement. The piece started out slow, but as it became more intense, Yuuri’s body became more tense. Viktor noticed his palm flat against the violin neck, and readjusted Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri, surprised and now a bit flustered, stumbled in the music.

“Just keep going,” Viktor instructed. Yuuri conceded to himself that that would be quite difficult, he was very aware every time Viktor touched his hand, but he tried his best. The piece lost some of its emotion and vigor with the distraction of Viktor repositioning him every few measures, but he could tell it helped. His hand was more relaxed, and he was better able to reach the quick notes and maneuver his fingers faster. He finished, not realizing his eyes had once again closed. Viktor just stood looking at Yuuri expectantly. 

“That helped with the hand thing,” Yuuri said, scratching the back of his scalp, “but I don’t think you can stand there fixing it every two seconds during my evaluation tomorrow.” Viktor laughed, and it filled the small practice room. 

“No, that wasn’t the plan, really. Plus, it isn’t a perfect method, just the first thing I could think of,” he explained. “But I hope it did give you a sense of your capabilities.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when you played before, the emotion shone through, even if the technicalities were rough. This time, you were able to hit the right notes more frequently, even if you sacrificed the emotion because I was distracting you. Now, you just need to find some sort of middle ground. May I?” Viktor put his hands on Yuuri’s violin. Yuuri nodded, not that he would really ever deny Viktor anything he wanted.

Viktor took Yuuri’s violin. It was far from new, something Yuuri inherited from a family member he hardly knew. It had been sitting in his grandparents basement for years, apparently previously owned by a cousin of theirs. When he first got it, the strings and bridge needed to be replaced, some of the wood repaired, amongst other things. It had a lovely sound, though, and it was the first full-sized violin he had ever played. Once or twice in highschool he had forgotten it at home in a rush and had to play a school instrument in class. They sucked. He missed his own violin. But it probably wasn’t like the new shiny violins Viktor got to play. 

So Viktor, with Yuuri’s hand-me-down violin in hand, picked out one of the more difficult portions of the piece. Eyes on the sheet music, he started. Yuuri really wished he hadn’t, because now his rendition of the piece would never live up to his own personal standards. But at the same time, Yuuri couldn’t be that upset that Viktor Nikiforov was playing on his violin, for no one but him. 

“Like that,” Viktor said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Regardless of the fact that Viktor had just sightread and played the page flawlessly, Yuuri was starstruck. The performance was beautiful, with perfect intonation and vibrato.

“That was… that was amazing,” Yuuri uttered, staring at Viktor. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

“Of course you can, Yuuri,” Viktor encouraged, “you have the skill. It’s there. You just need to focus on balancing everything correctly.” Yuuri nodded, struggling to believe his idol’s words. “I think you need to relax, you get very tense. Playing shouldn’t be such a stressful endeavor, you just need to let go of your anxiety. Your position only changed when I could tell you were tense,” Viktor remarked, constructive criticism not unkind. “Relax and you’ll be golden,” he advised. Easier said than done, Yuuri thought, but Viktor was definitely right. “Who is your private teacher, anyway?” Viktor inquired innocently.

“Oh, I, uh, I don’t have one. Not right now,” Yuuri admitted.

“Did you used to?”

“No, not really. I sometimes did lessons with my highschool string teacher, but that doesn’t really count. I never paid anyone to teach me.” Yuuri could feel his cheeks go red. Viktor surely had picked up the implication that Yuuri wasn’t exactly financially stable.

“So… you’re largely self-taught?” Viktor asked, pushing further.

“No, like I said, my school had an orchestra with an instructor, so I had that, at least.”

“That’s not really the same as lessons, though,” Viktor insisted. “Well, you’ve just impressed me much more, Yuuri. No wonder your positioning was weak.” Yuuri felt exposed and vulnerable, hardly anyone knew any of this.

“I-I mean my professors here were the first to tell me that it was off, so I’ve been trying to correct it during university, but that’s just difficult when I’ve been doing it my whole life, basically.”

“I understand,” Viktor said, placing Yuuri’s violin back in his hands. “The fact that you are in the honors program for music here is truly astounding given your limited teachings, though. At least give yourself credit for that. I mean, I had private tutors since I was a child, played in international orchestras, and your level of proficiency is… well, it’s not _quite_ at my level, but you’re getting there.” Yuuri thought he was about to faint, the showering of compliments overriding his anxiety brain that constantly put him down. Of course his teachers and friends over the years had always praised him for his abilities, but hearing it come from Viktor was a completely different experience. 

“Okay,” Yuuri said, mind gone blank of his entire english vocabulary. 

“Would you like me to tutor you while I am here?” Viktor asked, pulling Yuuri back to reality.

“I can’t… I’m not sure I could afford it,’ he said sheepishly. 

“Oh, it would be free of charge. University students already pay enough as it is to just go here,” Viktor assured. Yuuri, still having trouble finding words, just nodded. “Could I have your phone? I’ll give you my number so we can keep in contact.” Wordlessly, Yuuri agreed, unlocking his phone and letting Viktor put his information in. “I have to be on my way,” Viktor said, looking at the watch on his wrist, “but it was an absolute pleasure meeting you, Yuuri.”

“Thank you, y-you too,” Yuuri said, smiling and slowly processing the situation. Viktor began to leave, opening the door, but turned to Yuuri at the last minute.

“You are… your _playing_ is beautiful,” he remarked with a smile so genuine, Yuuri could’ve died happy right then and there. 

“You too,” he stammered out again, before realizing what he said. Viktor chuckled, and before Yuuri could scramble to apologize and correct himself spoke again.

“I understand what you meant, thank you,” he said, shutting the door behind him. 

Yuuri wouldn’t process any of this until he told Phichit about it that evening.


End file.
